Plague of Sauron
by Shadow of the Forgotten Ones
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is a respectable Hobbit, he is really! Sure when he was younger he adventured but now he stays at home unless visiting relatives. It's a predictable life, one that he sometimes wishes would be spiced up. Of course he regrets it when his wish comes true.
1. The Start

The Start

**AN: **Hello lovely readers! This is a zombie story! W00t, my first one ever in fact. I hope you enjoy it. So far the only pairings that I have in mind for this story are the canon couples stated ie Esmeralda/Saradoc and the like, plus Bilbo/Thorin. If you have a couple you like don't be shy shoot me a pm or comment and I'll slip it in if it's a pairing my brain can wrap around xD If you don't understand something let me know so I can try to fix it. Beta read by TheHardCoreHobbit and ParadiseGirl, who I am so very glad took the time to read this. It will probably be edited a few more times cause ParadiseGirl hasn't been able to send me her thoughts yet lol.

Bilbo Baggins knows he isn't the most interesting person to the Big People who live outside the protective Dome of the Shire. Oh sure, when he was younger he "adventured" and was very "unrespectable" to the Hobbits living in the Shire Dome, Section Hobbiton. He still has mementos from his wilder days and unlike most Shirelings, or at least the ones who stay in the Dome and don't venture out into Bree, he knows that outside it, the world is full of science and technology. He has seen the high rising buildings made of metal he has never seen produced in smithies, the low flying carts that aren't carts and the thick smog that clogs the air, making it hard for him to breathe.

But now he is respectable, he enjoys gardening and other respectable Hobbit past times. Always makes sure to eat his seven meals, not a minute late and tuts at the fauntlings that try to steal the pies from his windowsill. Oh how his mother would be scandalized! Her only son, _not_ adventuring!? His father, on the other hand, would be relieved that his son has finally settled down.

It's a source of gossip for his neighbors, the odd mix of blood flowing through his veins. Never before had a Took and a Baggins married... ot that he listened to the harsh whispers of the older Hobbits that criticized his every move. And just maybe it's his odd mixing of blood that saves him.

Life under the Dome can get repetitive easily; the clear glass that covers the entirety of the Shire is the only piece of high technology there is on, or around the fertile grounds depending on how one looks at it. Created by an Istar, long before records were kept, it covers the Hobbit's home. It collects what limited sunlight there is from the outside world and focuses it, tuning it into a blazing pseudo sun and moon. Its sensors allow it to know when the plants need rain and when to turn the air chilly so that the fertile land stays fertile.

So on the day that Bilbo Baggins leaves his large, comfortable smial to visit his cousins Drogo and Primula, toys tucked away to surprise their child Frodo, it is of course; bright and sunny. Looking up at the bright blue sky and lazily moving clouds Bilbo wishes something unexpected would happen before encouraging his pony to move. It doesn't have to be big just something to break up the stagnant flow of time. It's a long ride from Hobbiton to Buckland.

Another interesting blend of blood; Brandybuck and Baggins, even odder that the Baggins decided to leave Hobbiton and settle into Buckland of all places but Bilbo thinks love makes you do odd things. And Drogo Baggins loves Primulla with the same fire that Bilbo say his own father have for his mother. It's night time before he reaches his cousins smial. The moon is high in the sky; a lantern sits in the outer sill letting him know that at least one of his cousins are awake. Walking up to the door, bag of goodies under his arm, he ignores how the hair on the back of his neck stands on end and on how the crickets have stopped chirping. Gandalf, an old friend of the family and quite possibly the maker of the Dome, swore to him a malfunction would never again happen and that the dangerous natural creatures, _wolves_, would never again attack. He trusts the gray clad man and thus ignores the sign, the instincts honed during Fell Winter. Instead he focuses on the bundle of energy that tackles his legs the moment after he knocks on the door. Basks in the happy chatter of a fauntling who has been allowed to stay up past his bed time.

It's late in the next night that the screaming begins, jolting Bilbo awake from where he is sitting in the front room, Frodo in his lap. Too late his instincts kick in and he tries to shuffle them out the back door. Drogo and Primula were too young to remember the Fell Winter thirty years ago. They don't have the scars or the memories that drive Bilbo to grab every knife he can carry. He hears the ominous _thump_, _thump_ on the door and squeezes his eyes shut just for a moment. It's spring not winter, there are no howls in the air, no frost biting at his fingers or hunger clawing at his stomach. In that moment Drogo breaks away from his hiding family, to him it's just the desperate knocks of a neighbor in trouble, not death on paws. He doesn't remember the starving wolves scenting out Hobbits like rabbits in their dens nor the ferocious way they attacked the doors, their bodies hitting the solid wood like a frantic fauntling wanting access to their parents room. It is as Bilbo opens his eyes that the door breaks; Primula screams in fear and Drogo is taken down by an enraged Hobbit who tears out his throat. Without thinking Bilbo has thrown a knife, ending the mad Hobbit and pulled the hysterical Primula out of the smial, a quiet and shaken Frodo in her arms. His hands tremble as he bars the back door with a bench, mind racing he tries to figure out why a Hobbit would act like a feral animal... No like a rabid animal crazed out of its mind with sickness. There are still screams sounding, threatening to throw him into a panic attack, he can't panic, he can't freeze, he has to get Prim and Frodo away, has to keep them safe. They trust him; he sees it in Prim's bright blue eyes. Slowly they edge around the smial towards the front, Prim holding on to Frodo tightly not wanting to let him go, they need to get out of here. Myrtle, his pony, is gone, which is better than being dead, and his cart is mostly untouched. He can see other smials with their doors thrown open or broken down. He's just about to steer the down the road, toward Saradoc and Esmeralda's home when Prim freezes.

"Bilbo... Drogo isn't in the doorway."

"What?" he spins around. Instead of two bodies laying in the doorway there is just the rabid Hobbit. Drogo is nowhere to be found.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know Prim, I don't know."

"Does that mean he's okay?"

Bilbo looks at her, her blond hair already escaping the bun she put it in to sleep and blue eyes showing how young she really is. Thirty eight years old with a four year old son. He doesn't have the heart to tell her it is **_very_** doubtful that Drogo is okay... Instead of speaking he pats her arm. They need to move before whatever broke the other doors comes back out.

It's Frodo who spots his father, further down the lane, body moving awkwardly. Before Bilbo can stop her Prim shoves Frodo into his arms and runs toward her husband. She cries out his name; he turns skin pale and blood pouring out of his throat. Prim stumbles to a stop, she's too far for Bilbo to reach her in time and the shade of her husband is on her before she can scream properly. Anguished cries fill the air as more things pile out and converge on Primula. Covering Frodo's eyes the best he can, he turns around and runs ignoring Frodo's screams of 'Mama' and 'go back'.

By the time they make it to Saradoc's Frodo is silent. Bilbo feels all fifty one years of his life as he trudges up the lane holding onto his cousin. Primula, Drogo... gone... Its quiet compared to where they were and Bilbo feels tense. It doesn't matter that as the Master of Buckland Saradoc has a smial that has no neighbors. He's seen one of his dearest cousin's die only to not really be dead and kill his wife in the same fashion he had been... But if Drogo didn't die does that mean that Prim is alive? Can they be considered alive if they seem to just be walking corpses with foaming mouths? He shudders and brings Frodo closer to him, he shan't let Frodo down; he will keep him safe. It's a slight relief to see the orange door of Brandybuck Hall shut tight. His mind wonders to a time when he taught his older cousins the knock adults were using to let the Hobbits in the smials know it was a Hobbit not a wolf knocking on the door. He hopes Saradoc remembers it or is at least alive; much rather Saradoc being alive and just refusing to answer the door than the less appealing possibility. One loud knock, two soft, five fast then two slow knocks on the door. _Always keep your back to the door Bilbo, face the front, keep the front half of your body with your weapon toward the possible threats my boy_, his father's voice floats in his mind, Bungo always the voice of reason, always calm. He barely has time to register the sound of the door opening before he is pulled into Brandybuck Hall. Esmeralda is hugging him and crying, they heard the screams even all the way out here. Questions are shot rapidly from both elder Brandybucks. Questions that hurt to answer. _Where are Primula and Drogo? What happened?_ He answers them the best he can little Frodo having moved off with Merry; Merry always the perceptive one dragging Frodo to lay down with him.

"Do you think its reached Hobbition and Tookland?"

"I don't know."

Esmeralda bites her lip, thinking worryiedly about her older brother.

"What do you think is happening Bilbo?"

Bilbo lets out a long shaky breath of air.

"To tell the honest to Yavanna truth, Saradoc I haven't a clue. It sounded like Fell Winter again only without the howls. The Hobbit that got Drogo? He was foaming at the mouth like that dog of Farmer Maggot's that went mad," he lets out another shaky breath "I saw that Hobbit rip Drogo's throat out before I put a knife in his brains. I SAW it Saradoc, and yet by the time it took us to sneak around the back Drogo was back on his feet. Only he wasn't Drogo anymore... They don't look like they'd move fast, Drogo was walking as if he had an injured leg before he heard Prim, but they do..."

Esmeralda and Saradoc exchange concerned glances. It'll be... not better but easier to think in the morning they decide, all three adults joining the two sleeping fauntlings. They barricade themselves in the room and Bilbo takes first watch. Many, if not all, Big People think Hobbits weak because of their plentiful lands, peaceful ways and seven meals a day. What they forget is that Hobbits work that plentiful land, that they have a biological _need_ for seven meals a day and if any Big Person ever saw them as they were during Fell Winter they'd never call another Hobbit "Halfling" again. Bilbo looks over at Saradoc curled around his wife and child; he's supposed to wake him up for second watch, swore it actually. But really, Saradoc should know him better than that. Instead he stays awake all night, trying not to think of the last time he did this. Hobbits may not be built to fight but endanger their family and they turn vicious.

Slowly the other wake as the sun rises and Bilbo weathers the lecture Saradoc gives him as the un-barricade the door. Carefully they move into the main part of the smial. With Saradoc watching her back, and Bilbo watching the fauntlings and the front of the house, Esmeralda heads into a back room. A room most Shirelings never had use for until Fell Winter. Brandybucks and Tooks, always the exception, have a small armory in their houses, something to protect them when they go adventuring. Not that swords and war hammers and axes intimidate Big People outside of Bree with their high tech weapons. The weapons will work well against the rabid Hobbits however. Esmeralda returns to the main section of the smial, a small pained smile on her face when she notices that Merry and Frodo have barricaded the front door and closed all the windows. Much like she and Paladin had did during the Fell Winter. She places the weapons on the dining room table heading back into the armory. Ever curious the faunts race to the table 'oohing' and 'aweing' at the weapons. Saradoc having checked the entire smial goes into the kitchen. It won't be as good as his wife's but he can make something for breakfast.

"Brandy Hall is a great place to be but..."

"It is far away and not someplace with defenses," Bilbo finishes for Saradoc.

"Right. We need to try and warn the Hobbits who haven't encountered the rabid ones. There is a horn half way to Tookland..."

"We'll head there, then to Paladin's place, pick them up and head to Bag End. I've kept my traps set up from Fell Winter; they just need to be primed."

Saradoc gives him a thankful smile.

"You guys are always welcome in Bag End Never forget that."

"Course Cousin."

After breakfast, the three adults go through the weaponry that Esmeralda brought out. She's already in leather armor with a Hobbit-sized sword on her hip. Bilbo bets Bag End that she has sharp throwing needles on her person too. Saradoc chooses a hefty Hobbit-sized ax while Bilbo grabs the honest to Yavanna throwing knives and the one bow and quiver that is on the table. At Bilbo's questioning glance Saradoc and Esmeralda grin sheepishly.

"Wanted to see why you liked the thing so dam ahem... much. Couldn't get the hang of it."

Sadly none of the leather armor will fit the fauntlings. Not that Merry and Frodo minded, both of the four year olds are too busy checking out their new sling shots. Quietly the adults... discuss, not argue oh no just discuss, the pros and cons of using a cart. Bilbo stresses the fact that since they have faunts with them it would be safer to have them in the cart, which would also be faster than five Hobbits on foot, two of them with faunts on their shoulders. This drowns out any worry about the cart drawing attention. Oh it most surely will, but at least the fauntlings will be out of reach... hopefully. Esmeralda glares fiercely when Saradoc and Bilbo decide that she will sit up front driving the cart while they walk alongside it at least until they get out of the populated area. Should the run into survivors they'd advise them to either get out of the Dome or hunker down. Carefully they set out to the barn where the cart and ponies are. Minty and Daisy, two calm and rather fast ponies are chosen to draw it. Extra weapons, fauntlings and food are loaded into the back; Esmeralda climbs into the driver's seat and they head off.

Like the ride to Buckland the ride out is slow, even slower despite the fact they have a cart. The inner town is rather destroyed, smials broken into and the like. They are halfway out when they encounter the first rabid Hobbit of the day. Her skin is turning a sickly color and it looks as if parts of her are falling off. Bilbo puts an arrow through her throat but she doesn't go down. Another arrow is fired into her chest. This time she falls. The rabid Hobbits spill out like mad ants when their hill is stepped on after that. While they fight their way out, the three adults learn things about their enemy. They learn that even the more progressed rabid Hobbits, ones that are no longer foaming at the mouth, but have pure white eyes and sickly colored skin that stumble around like their legs are broken and groan and moan, move just as quickly as the others. That they are attracted to the scent of blood, even the blood of their own; they eat flesh and can be slowed down by killing one in front of them so that they stop and eat the dead one. And they don't stay down unless vital spots like the heart or brain are hit... cutting off their head works as well though. But it is the fauntlings that witness something big about them. They point out a non rabid Hobbit trying to get home by the looks of it and the two adult males turn too slow. The Hobbit is attacked, bitten repeatedly on the arm before Bilbo is able to kill the attacker. The Hobbit, clutching his wounded arm to his chest, smiles thankfully at Bilbo and Bilbo signs the message "Get out or hunker down." He turns his back, all three adults dismissing the injured Hobbit after he signs back "I'm getting out of here once I get my family". The fauntlings don't however, they keep their curious little eyes on him. It takes two minutes for the Hobbit to stop walking. Another to start convulsing where he stands and a few seconds to turn around to the cart, his mouth foaming. It's Merry and Frodo's panicked screams that save them; the Hobbit moved quickly catching up to them faster than a normal Hobbit could have. Saradoc cuts off his head with his ax when the mad Hobbit tries to climb into the cart and he pulls the convulsing body away.

"Aule! He's burning up," he exclaims in shock, his hand stinging slightly from the sudden heat "He's hot like he has a fever, a really bad fever."

"Let's not get too close to ones that can still bite or sneeze on us then," Bilbo states uneasily. Three minutes and a handful of seconds to turn a normal Hobbit mad. He's never heard of rabies progressing so quickly.

When they finally make it to the horn used to signal danger, Esmeralda kisses Saradoc. She doesn't like the plan, her going ahead a bit so that if the horn is swarmed she and the faunts will be safe, but she heads off any way. Before she goes she forces her husband to promise to stay safe and kisses Bilbo on the top of his head when she hears that he is staying behind with her husband. Bilbo keeps his bow out, arrow notched and ready to fire. Once they are sure that Esmeralda is far enough away to be safe, Saradoc climbs up the ladder and blows the horn. The Dome isn't perfect; don't believe any Man that says it is, and sometimes it glitches. Nothing as bad as Fell Winter, but time consuming bad none the less, that is why the horns were made. To signal something had gone wrong, so Hobbits know they either need to evacuate or try and tough it out. No rabid Hobbits charge them and they cautiously, yet quickly make their way out. They find Esmeralda waiting for them a little closer than they are comfortable with but they say nothing to her. Lunch is terse, the adults watching for dangers. On the road and out of town they move faster, thankfully not running into too many rabid Hobbits.

Paladin's home is just as large as Saradoc's only it's closer to town. They reach it just before supper. Bilbo goes to make sure the smial hasn't been broken into. Once he sees the door shut tight he whistles twice. Esmeralda and Saradoc secure the cart and together they get the food and fauntlings from it meeting up with Bilbo in front of the door. He knocks the special knock and waits. Much like before the door is opened quickly and they are ushered in. Paladin hugs his little sister to him, giving Saradoc a grateful smile. The triplet Took girls take Merry and Frodo, cooing over them and taking them to Pippin. Eglantine, Paladin's wife, is just as happy to see them, cheerfully making more food, or as cheerfully as on can be in their situation. Both of them agree that Bag End is the best place to be.

"We will head there in the morning then," Bilbo says with a decisive nod.

Saradoc bullies Bilbo into sleeping and takes first watch, ignoring Paladin's claims that 'this is my smial! I take first watch.' Saradoc just smiles at him, making Paladin grunt and mutter about disrespectful brother-in-laws. And when Bilbo jolts awake from nightmares, _memories_, Saradoc sits up with him, talking about happier times. Like the time Paladin took him out to Farmer Maggot's fields, stripped him of his clothes and tied him up like a scarecrow.

"You take good care of my little sister you hear me? If you think this is bad just get on my bad side," Saradoc says mimicking Paladin. Bilbo laughs softly telling his own Paladin tales. Like how one day when he was just a small faunt Paladin got into Bungo's wine and wound up running around Bag End naked. Paladin lets out a groan, sitting up and giving Bilbo a baleful stare.

"_Must_ you always tell that story?"

"Yes."

Saradoc chuckles and with a sleepy yawn lets Paladin take over the watch.

"He's a good boy Paladin. Only a year younger than you and a year older than Esa."

"I know Bilbo, but she's my sister..."

"He'd die to keep her safe."

"That's what is worrying me now."

Bilbo pats his shoulder gently. He doesn't say they'll make it, doesn't try and reassure his cousin. He wants to, wants to wipe away the worry but he can't. Morning comes and they load up the cart; Paladin is smiling and joking as he walks next to the cart making the children laugh. Eglantine is up front with Esmeralda, both of them gossiping softly. Traveling to Hobbiton is easier than it was to travel to Tookland. Complacency, Bilbo remembers too late, begs for disaster to strike. They've stopped for Elvensies when the sun itself flickers like an unfortunate candle left out in a storm. The fauntlings scream in fear. Eglantine calls out for the girls and Pippin to get back to the cart. The Took blood in the younglings makes them thrice as curious as normal fauntlings. Pearl grabs her sisters' hands and they run to the safety of their mother right as a frightening scream pierces the air. The Hobbits freeze just for a moment then spring into action. The children are loaded into a cart; Esmeralda is doing her damnedest to keep the ponies calm, Saradoc and Eglantine are trying to keep the children quiet. Another scream hits their ears, closer this time and the ponies nearly run over Esmeralda in their want to get away. Eglantine looks around madly, triple checking her head count, there is a faunt missing.

"Where's Pippin?!"

Paladin curses under his breath and looks around for his youngest. He spots Pippin, holding a handful of weeds with sticks in his hair; at the edge of the clearing as a third scream sounds. The ponies have had enough and rush off, throwing Saradoc, attempting to get down and retrieve his wayward nephew, completely out of the cart. Bilbo and Paladin, the only two not in the cart because Esmeralda had hoped holding on to the reins would keep the ponies from bolting hear the painful **_SNAP_** of bone and Saradoc cries out with an answering scream echoing.

"Shit! Bilbo, you get Saradoc back into the cart, I'll get Pippin."

Bilbo can't say a word against Paladin's plan as the Hobbit takes off to save his son. Thankfully Esmeralda has the ponies back under a tentative control and brings the cart back around to Bilbo. Paladin is halfway back to them when the first rabid Hobbit breaches the forest line. Esmeralda and Eglantine shriek out in fear. They can't bring the cart to him, they can't. Bilbo has his bow out and is contemplating getting out and rushing toward Paladin when a larger figure follows the now swarming smaller Hobbits. The new larger figure opens its mouth and they find the source of the screams that have been frightening them and the ponies.

"PALADIN, get that ASS moving!" Esmeralda screams ignoring Pimpernel's gasp of shock at her Aunt's language. Paladin picks up speed and Bilbo thinks he's made it; he's only a toss away from the cart for Eru's sake, when a rabid hobbit cuts out of the forest from the left. Paladin sees it and Bilbo gets the horrid luck of seeing the exact moment that it registers in Paladin's mind that he isn't going to make it. He bends his head down and whispers something to Pippin, locks eyes with Bilbo and tosses Pippin. It's instinct that has Bilbo leaning out of the cart, a cart that he is just realizing is moving again, to catch Pippin and it's hurting, panting, possibly going into shock Saradoc who keeps _him_ from falling out.

"Keep your promise Brandybuck!"

And their gone, Paladin is gone, out of sight and Esmeralda is sobbing uncontrollably. Eglantine is trying not to cry as she holds onto her girls. Bilbo stands shakily, trying his damnedest to ignore how Saradoc is leaning out of the cart, one arm out stretched like he can still grab Paladin. Pippin is handed to Eglantine and the small blond Hobbit uncurls and shakily holds out the now damaged bouquet of flowers.

"I pickeded them for you mommy," Pippin cries not really knowing what is happening only that it is his fault. Eglantine bursts into tears hugging her baby to her chest.

"Oh, you silly fool of a Took."

They make it to Hobbiton and Bag End without anymore loses. Though Pippin is silent and no matter what Merry does he can't get Pippin to smile again. All the doors in Hobbiton are shut tight and the windows closed. Getting into Bag End Bilbo is nearly brained by his best friend/gardener/brother by bond, Hamfast. Who, as soon as he sees who he nearly brained apologizes profusely.

"You said to come here if it was getting bad."

"I know, you did well Hamfast."

Time moves slowly as they stay cooped up in Bag End, weeks crawl by and soon screams start in Hobbiton as well. The adults stay armed and one night Bilbo is shocked to hear the special knock on the door. Opening the door reveals a blood splattered Lobelia, another best friend/sibling by bond, and a shaken Lotho. He quickly pulls the two into his home, Lobelia slumps into Bilbo's hold asking him if she's still welcome at home even though she hasn't been the friendliest Hobbit since she married Otho. Otho who isn't with her, Otho who won't be making anymore snide remarks about Bilbo, Otho who won't raise a hand against her ever again. There are holes in his family, holes that will never be filled, but it's almost complete... And Bilbo thinks they just may make it through whatever is happening. Then the sun, which has been flickering near constantly goes out and they are left with only the weak natural sunlight filtering through the now normal glass of the Dome.


	2. The Cause

The Cause

**AN: **This chapter begins, time-wise, before the first chapter and is Thranduil's point of view. It progresses and passes the first chapter time wise giving you a view of what is happening world wide instead of just in the Shire. I'm sure you'll notice a few discrepancies in how fast the Virus progresses and Thranduil mentions it as well. That will be discussed in later chapters. As will how the virus got to the Shire. Once again beta'd by the lovely TheHardCoreHobbit.

Thranduil feels his lip curl as he logs off of his call, the large flat screen in front of him darkening as he turns his back. Elrond, his lip curled even more, is once again trying to tell him to stop. That what he is doing is dangerous. That he is heading toward disaster just like Gondolin. Thranduil snorts, he isn't foolish enough to attempt to play Valar. All of his work is centered on viruses, bacteria and on occasion splicing of elements to create better weapons. Sure he has a few projects that could potentially cause mass destruction, but they are heavily guarded. There is no way, absolutely none, that any of them can get out.

* * *

"Sire!"

Thranduil glances at the underling who dare interrupt his angry thoughts, nose wrinkling when he sees that it is a man. Oh how he wishes that he could just hire Elves but that is discrimination and the lawsuits for those are tedious and time consuming. He waves his hand impatiently, wanting whatever he has to say said.

"Two of the test subjects from Project Sauron are missing sir!"

Thranduil doesn't yell, scream or panic. Those reactions are beneath an Elf. Besides it's most likely a mistake. There is no way that two of the five subjects of the Sauron Project, an idiotic name derived from a Man fairy tale about an evil Wizard that turned Men into wraiths, are missing. It is one of the most guarded of the virus projects, though it started off as something different. No one on the outside knows it exists and no one on the inside would be stupid enough to try to release it. There are too many unknown variables for it to be valuable. Too many unexpected things can happen for it to be shown off like a miniature pink Oliphaunt.

As he follows the Man to the security area for the Sauron Project he takes absolute delight in the obvious fear the Man has of him. There is however, no mistake in the emptiness of one of the three fiber glass cages. The first cage holds a single test subject. It's race is indistinguishable; it could be a Man or an Elf, based solely on the height but it is in the final stage of the virus so any distinguishing features like pointed ears are lost. The subject watches the door with calm, intelligent if hauntingly white eyes. At odd intervals it releases a high pitched scream that agitates the two in the other cage; it's skin is sickly in color, at times it appears greenish at others a deathly white. Bits of the subject have fallen off, like the left ear and most of it's hair. They've had to place a mithril sheet between cages because the two in the second cage throw themselves at the glass trying to get to the first. The subjects in the second cage, one man one woman, both Elves this time. They are in what the scientists call the Primary Stage of the virus. Their mouths are foaming, eyes glazed not yet white and the skin is just turning that pale sick shade but is still healthy looking. Their bodies jerk as they madly try to find a way out; intelligence leaves them in this stage replacing humanistic creatures with murderous ones instead until the last stage. They kill quickly and violently when it's feeding time, their food consisting of animals sprayed with human pheromones a trick that doesn't work on subjects in the last stage. Which has taught the scientists that animals are not susceptible to the virus hopefully, and the zombies have no problem eating their dead. They started out with a large number in the beginning and through trial and error they were brought down to five. The first subject ate it's cage mate when it was killed trying to escape. The two that are missing are kept in the final cage, also separated from the second cage but that is so that they don't realize what will happen to them. They are freshly injected with the virus. Thranduil can't remember what the original purpose the virus had before they labeled it a virus, it mutated and spread much like the dangerous viruses of old. All he can remember is that they mentioned better strength and resistance to pain but those plans were shelved after the first three days, his curiosity was peaked to what it could do so he had them continue anyways. He lost two good scientists that day; the sentimental fools had seen the subjects convulsing on the ground and rushed in to help them.

The virus they found is passed around through biting or if you're unlucky, or lucky (depending on the stage it is on) ingesting the bodily fluids such as saliva, blood and reproductive fluids. They found out later that if a person vomits almost directly after said ingestion they won't turn. They learned after losing an assistant who had swallowed a mouth full of blood after a guard killed a subject that was charging the poor thing. They had placed him with the other freshly injected subjects; he had lost his lunch everywhere after getting a mouthful. When the other subjects moved on to the Primary Stage and he didn't they attacked him. The Men gave the subjects a name, a name he personally hated but it fit if you believed the superstitions: zombie. And now two of them are loose. He bites back a growl, his carefully constructed mask cracking. He would not have his home razed or have his name likened to that of Gondolin!

"Show me the tapes for last night."

"Yes Sir!"

As he watches the tapes his face contorts in anger and he doesn't bother to fight the growl at the obvious Istar interference in them, an annoying static that makes it impossible to see what happens. Damn Wizards can never leave things be, they have to meddle like Mithrandir did with the Halflings. Weak creatures that they are, so weak that they cannot survive properly without potent sunlight and yet Mithrandir loves them. His hands curl into fists; one of the Wizards had stolen from him! How dare they, when he found out which one it would not matter that they are sent by the Valar themselves he would end the traitorous Wizard.

"Find them. We cannot allow them to remain loose," he does not yell or shout, his voice remains calm, collected and cold despite the rage he feels inside. Valar knows what could happen if one of them got out into a populated area before they started showing. The subjects have no clue what they were infected with, killers get no right to complain about a possible bid at freedom; if they lived and didn't cause trouble they would be allowed back in society. _If_. With a dramatic turn he walks, not storms no that is beneath him, out. He needs a drink for he can already see Elrond's smug face if he catches wind of what happened. _But there is no need to start a panic,_ he thinks sipping on a glass of wine in his office, t_he subjects, the zombies, will be caught in a timely manner. No need to get the Dwarves or Rangers involved none at all._

It takes three days for the first report to come in. A group was attacked by an insane man. Thranduil has the group quarantined but it's too late. The subject was... very open with who he shared his bed with and those infected that way are harder to find. More zombies began popping up and he orders research for a cure to be be found. The only saving grace, if it can be called that, is that it takes three days for it to work it's ways through the body and become the Primary stage, where it is at it's most contagious mainly because of the foaming mouth. The Dwarves are angry at him, Y_ou should have informed us the moment they got loose. As the main line of defense for the civilians we __**need**_ _to know! _Oh yes General Oakenshield was very angry at him for keeping it under wraps but they understand each other to a degree. After all civilians panicking and acting as if the world is on fire is not something they need. However as the weeks go by panic sets in, the virus spreads quickly, far more quickly than Thranduil and his scientists could ever imagine. By the end of the month Thranduil watches with a sinking stomach as the Dome above the Shire breaks down.

Bree the way station, built to help the transition from going to one extreme to another in and out of the Shire is crawling with Dwarves and Rangers making sure that no infected get in... But it appears they acted to slow. A week before the Dome shut down Hobbits flee from the peaceful area not even caring that the sunlight they needed wasn't as bright out in Bree as it is, was, in the Shire. Most of them have to be in shock; there is no way that it took minutes for the virus to reach Primary nor for it to take a day to reach the final stage. Because of the violence the zombies, though the Hobbit's call them feral or mad or even rabid, _which _Thranduil thinks grimly is an _accurate way to describe them_ brought down upon them. All are mourning lost loved ones and praying to Mandos for the ones still inside trying it wait it out like a bad winter. He pities those fools; the zombies can't starve and they become more intelligent as time goes by.

Order and peace goes out the window by the third month. A single infected person can infect many without knowing they are infected and those that they infect do the same. Despite their best efforts the Dwarves, with their mountains and weapons and military background, try their best to keep a semblance of order and offer shelter to those in need. But it's too much for even them to handle. And what pisses Thranduil off the most is not how technology is beginning to fail around him or that he is playing host to a possibly insane brown clad Istar no, no it's that Elrond won't rub it in his face that he, Elrond high scientist of a stick up his assness, was right. Won't look at him in disappointment and Thranduil knows, absolutely knows the medical scientist wants too, he's known the Elf for centuries! But Elrond, the insufferable ass, refuses to do so. It's like knowing you're going to be slapped only it hasn't happened yet and the person who is going to slap you keeps moving as if they will, purposely, only to not. Thranduil rubs tiredly at his temples, wishing desperately for a large glass of wine or at least for the brown clad Wizard to disappear... actually both would be great.


	3. Unfashionably Late

Unfashionably Late

**AN: **This chapter had many possible names. My friend Tech helped me choose from this list of beauties:

Panic and Rescue  
Musings of the Grey Sky  
To Find A Hobbit  
On Hobbits  
Wizard Gray and the Five Dwarves  
To The Rescue  
Concerning Wizards  
Damnation or Salvation

and of course  
Unfashionably Late

I just want to say a great big THANK YOU! To my beta who has had to put up with my horrible grammar and habit of either omitting words on accident or the possible dyslexia that I have that makes me switch up a lot of my letters or words in general. Plus she also puts up with my crappy update time. You're a darling for putting up with me Cx

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Hobbits, Gandalf has come to find and admire, are a hardy race despite what many consider dire weaknesses. No, Hobbits cannot live healthily without bright sunlight; no, they are not physically strong, nor are the most knowable about the outside world. But they thrive even in the harshest of times. They adapt and make the best out of their lot in life. It's one of the reason he had the Dome built, why he helped and cast enchantments on it, so that his favorite race could flourish. Saruman doesn't understand his fascination with Hobbits, but he only sees value in brute strength. The Blueses of which he keeps forgetting their names, much to their despair, think it's just an eccentricity of his. Radagast, on the other hand, understands; he loves all animals and understands why Gandalf if drawn to the simplicity of Hobbits.

So when Gandalf first hears of random attacks of seemingly rabid people he thinks nothing of it. His Hobbits are safe in their Dome. Nothing gets past Bree and into the Shire, they'll be safe. But then Radagast mentions that Saruman has been paying an uncomfortable amount of attention to one of Thranduil's experiments and a cold shiver goes down his spine. For the experiment that Saruman has been paying a bit too much attention to is a dangerous one, one that the Elf thought he could keep hidden from all eyes. Dealing with experimentation on emotions and genetic strength and resistance, an experiment that Saruman would love to dig his nails into. Worried that his friend is planning to do something stupid, like steal the experiment from Thranduil, he rushes to Saruman's home. The place is empty of people, the furnishing is starting to gather dust. Gandalf feels his heart sink when finds large maps of the Shire in Saruman's office. His minion, for there is no nice way of describing Grima, has circled a plot of land far away from most towns in the Shire. Dread filling him, he digs through papers on Saruman's desk, finding a receipt for a freezing unit and for a small home unit to be built in the Shire.

He leaves, rushes, toward the Shire. Over the years he had befriended many Hobbits, Gerontius Took and his family being his favorite. Tooks being far more adventurous than their fellows, Gerontius ventured with him outside the dome many a time in his one hundred and thirty years. He has failed his dear old friend once, when he didn't realize until it was too late that there was a malfunction in the Dome one winter, and he won't do so again. He's told his Hobbit friends once or twice that a Wizard is never late, he arrives precisely when he means too; Belladonna would smack him for it whenever he said it to her, but when he sees the Dome flickering he fears that for the first time he just may be late.

He's two days from Bree when the Dome shuts down; he feels the magic he's cast over it return to him. Two days late... arriving in a swirl of gray robes he stalks into the Prancing Pony Inn.

"You, you, you, you and you follow me," he calls, pointing to five Dwarves knowing that they will follow him because he is _Tharkun_, the gray wizard. The Dwarves come to his side, the balding one looks rebellious as he asks:

"What do ye want with us Wizard?"

"We are going on a rescue mission."

With that he leaves the Inn. They will need supplies for what he has planned. Knowing Bilbo, son of Belladonna, daughter of Gerontius Took, the boy will have bunkered down in Bag End... possibly even gathered some of his family to keep them safe. Bilbo is a survivor of Fell Winter, he will surely survive this.


	4. I Hate Wizards

**AN:** And so the fun begins. A little note on the Military ranks: Private is the lowest rank one can have in the military. Corporal is a bit higher up the ranks but still rather low. Captain is a rather high rank. Lieutenant General is on step below General.

Dwalin doesn't like Halflings; they're small, skittish creatures who seclude themselves more than Dwarves themselves. He likes Wizards even less. Waltzing around like they own the place with the power to force those who oppose them into submission. So he likes the idea of a Halfling being friends with a Wizard like one likes a rabid dog. And now he's been drafted into going on a suicide mission to save said Halfling from Zombie infested lands. It's safe to say that Dwalin is not a happy camper.

To make things worse that damn pointy eared tree shagging scientist is clearly hiding _something_. Because according to the missives the prat keeps sending there is no saving someone who's been infected. You _have_ to kill them. _Don't let any of their fluid near you, don't let them bite you and always go for vital shots._ And the damn Wizard wants to charge head first into what is easily the biggest hotspot and festering pit of zombies! To rescue a single, soft, gentle, probably already dead Halfling with only five Dwarves! Dwalin doesn't groan, doesn't beat his head against the nearest available surface or ask Mahal why in the seven realms he answered the Wizards 'you'. Instead he cracks his knuckles, nods his head at the other four unfortunate souls and goes up to his room that the Inn owner graciously lent him to grab his bags. This just may be a suicide mission but he won't have the history books say that Dwalin Fundinson, Lieutenant General to General Thorin "Oakenshield" Durin, cowered back when someone needed him.

Once in his room he grabs his two favorite weapons; Grasper and Keeper, Grasper is a sawed off over under shotgun that is semi automatic and Keeper is a semi automatic Remington. Both are strapped onto his back in a way that makes it easy to draw them but they don't get caught on his bag. They're classic guns but they fit him. He has two new plasma guns at his hips as well but he doesn't like them nearly as much as Grasper and Keeper.

He returns to the main level of the Inn to wait for the other Dwarves Gandalf pointed out. _Five Dwarves, FIVE!_ Two of them tumble down the stairs, young Privates by the look of it. Once their, excitement?, calms down they shift about trying not to draw attention to themselves. He'd almost call them smart if it wasn't for the scene they made on the have their hoods pulled down so he can't see their faces. The next one he spots is wearing a ridiculous hat would not normally be allowed on mission but circumstances aren't normal anymore. The dwarf salutes him jauntily, his moustache and braids curled up and bouncing.

"Corporal Bofur Broadbeam, reporting for duty, sir!"

Mahal have mercy, a Broadbeam. Notorious for being loud and rowdy when at base but deadly in the field, Broadbeam's are powerhouses that prefer play to battle. From behind the Broadbeam emerges a figure Dwalin knows well. Captain Oin Grionson, best doctor ever produced in any mountain base and that isn't just familial pride. Oin is a bit hard of hearing, a discreet hearing aid rests in his right ear, but he's a damn fine soldier to add to his healing skills. For wild picking the crazy Wizard didn't do too bad, he's a bit weary about the Privates but rank doesn't mean lack of skill.

"Well lets go find the damn Wizard," Dwalin growls out.

"The Wizard is here Master Dwalin. And he has bought enough supplies to hopefully last us," the Wizard speaks. The two Privates jump in shock, Dwalin doesn't judge them on that because the damn Wizard had appeared out of nowhere. His back stiffens though, how… Never mind he's an all powerful being who knows everything… He fucking _hates_ Wizards. Gandalf leads them outside and to a cart. Dwalin grits his teeth sight. Five Dwarves, a Wizard and a cart pulled by a pony. The cart would slow them down! Hell he bets the noise the infernal beast will make will be a beacon for the zombie's to find them.

"We are not taking that."

Gandalf looks at him as if he is stupid or a child that does not understand how the world works.

"It is eight days to Bag End, our destination Master Dwalin, in a cart," The Wizard says this with an air of finality and it is only the fact that Gandalf could easily turn Dwalin into a toad that keeps the Dwarf from snapping something back. And Balin says he lets his temper get the best of him. And so begins the slow trek to save a Hobbit.


	5. Who Needs Luck?

**AN:** Hey guys! I just want to say thank you to everyone who has Favorited and/or commented on this fic it makes me really happy that someone else loves it. I've had a very bad time lately but it's getting better. My lovely beta TheHardcoreHobbit and LadyBardock helped get me into typing again as most of this fic is hand written then typed for proofreading and the like. If you have pairings you want to see or don't want to see speak up. I have a habit of falling into old grooves with my pairings however I am open to changing it up. Love you guys! ~Forgotten

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Fili can't believe their luck. When Kili first suggested that they sneak off base and go to the Hot Zone, he was sure they were going to get caught. There is a reason why most think _he's_ the oldest out of the two of them, other than his glorious thick full beard of course. His darling older brother tended not to think his plans through, ever. But surprisingly his plan to get them to Bree worked. Their uncle, General Thorin "Oakenshield" Durin and, most importantly, their mother are none the wiser! In fact Fili is almost insulted that every Private that is hiding their face isn't being stopped. After all, Uncle had forbade them from going out of the mountain base of Ered Luin. Maybe he and mother are too busy fighting with the tree shagger; whatever the reason, their luck is good, and Fili is happy for it.

After all it isn't everyday that Tharkun chooses you and your brother to help him with something. However when he sees that _Dwalin_, Dwalin who he hadn't even known was stationed at Bree, is also chosen, he gulps. As he follows the Lieutenant General he briefly wonders if their luck had gone up or down. Dwalin is an excellent soldier, however Dwalin is also knows their voices very well; he helped uncle and amad raise them after their father died, so they couldn't talk where he could hear them. If Dwalin found them out they're dead. Beside Fili Kili buzzes with energy, his plasma sniper rifle bouncing with each step. This will be their first rescue mission, first real mission as uncle had them doing small time stuff normally. Part of them is sure this may just be their last. They share a look; neither of them had seen much of the zombie part of the "zombie apocalypse". They've seen plenty of the destroyed cities on their way to Bree but not a single zombie. Of course they haven't seen much of any danger, after their father died the rest of their family became almost overbearing. It was a fight to just join the military, a time honored family tradition. Not to mention that most Dwarves join the army, they are the first line of defence, the mighty Dwarves. Fili shakes his head; now is not the time to be caught up in thoughts. He squares his shoulders, making him appear older for a moment.

Dwarves are a hardy folk, made by Mahal the greatest of Blacksmiths to survive, to endure and yet they are struggling to beat the newest threat to Middle Earth. And if they, a race so much more hardy than that of the one they are going to save, are having a hard time how is their target faring? Kili notices his scowl and quickly signs over at him. They can't risk talking and Dwalin finding out that they snuck out. He's almost worse than Uncle Thorin when it comes to shielding them from the world, even if he has a weird way of doing it.

~What's wrong?~

~Just thinking.~

~So that's what that smell is.~

Fili rolls his eyes and flips his older brother off. Kili muffles his laughter with his hand. It's easy to forget that the are in possibly the hottest spot for zombie activity, the Halfling race easily cut in half by the quickness that the infection spread, when they haven't seen a single zombie in the two days that they have been in the Dome. Or for that matter a Halfling. Muted arguing draws their attention to the front. Dwalin and Gandalf are the ones fighting, Dwalin's face glowing red at whatever the Wizard is saying. With a final word the Wizard, the only person who knows where Bag End is, leaves forcing them to set up camp. Fili glances around the area taking in the trees and how there are many places for zombies to hide. Curse Gandalf for leaving them alone, they aren't going to wander around aimlessly. Dwalin of course is not a happy camper cursing Wizards and Halflings alike under his breath and snapping at anyone who gets too close to him. As night falls the Broadbeam starts making dinner. They have schedules for everything, ranging from who cooks dinner on a smokeless fire to who takes what watch and tonight dinner is on the Broadbeam and First Watch is Cousin Oin. The food Bofur prepares from their supplies looks like something Kili would make, gross and un-edible, which causes Oin to glare at it dubiously and Bofur turn his nose up at Oin in offense.

"It's good, I tell ya. Got the recipe from me brother, best cook you'll find that ain't a Hobbit," Bofur defends his cooking the look in his eyes daring the older soldier to say a word. And say a word Oin does. The two start bicker, it almost seems routine for the two of them, it irritates Dwalin, hulking, scary, tall for a Dwarf Dwalin to the point that he stomps over to them. Oin isn't concerned, but that happens when you grow up with a person; Bofur on the other hand becomes silent. Dwalin takes the mixing spoon from Bofur's hand, scoops a small bite out of the pot and tastes it. Fili damn near laughs at the face on his cousin and Commanding Officers face, pure love of what he just tasted. Bofur sees the look as well and smirks happily as he covers the pot to keep Dwalin from stealing another bite.

"I told ya it was good. Anyone can make it, even the worst cook ever."

Fili doubts that Kili can cook it or his uncle or Dwalin. Their food killed the unkillable. The tenseness that had settled evaporated and soon chuckles were shared over food. It's as they are settling down to sleep, Oin still up and finding a good spot to keep watch that they hear it. A bone chilling scream, loud and echoing. It's worse than the one time Fili and Kili heard a horse break it's leg. It scares Fili to the bone and he clutches his big brother's hand. Kili looks around eyes wide and searching.

"What the fuck was that?" he asks softly but not softly enough for Dwalin not to hear. Fili fight back a flinch as Dwalin looks over suspicion gracing his face.

"That Master Kili, is something we do not want to run into be it day or night," the Wizard speaks making most of the Dwarves jump. How the fuck does the Wizard know his brothers name….? Fucking Wizards, maybe Dwalin is right and they are uncomforting. Fili eyes the gray Wizard warily whilst Dwalin mutters something very threatening in Khudzul. He grips Kili's hand tighter.

"And how do you know this?" Fili asks. _In for a penny, in for a pound._

"Because Master Fili, I saw him in action while I was looking ahead. I suggest you all rest. I shall watch through the night. In the morning we should make haste."

Dwalin is scowling fiercely as he comes up to the two Privates.

"When we get to this Bag End, I _will_ be talking to you in length about your insubordination and when we return home I _will_ be sicing your _mother_ on you," he growls lowly.

The boys blanch; their luck had just gone down the drain.


	6. Times Are Hard

**AN: I love my Beta**

* * *

The look in Bilbo's eyes as he takes in his last pantry is one of defeat. They are going to die here, starving and surrounded by things that look like Hobbits they know. He curls his hands into fists; he should have lead them to Bree when the sun went out. But he had, naively, hoped that he could make the food last, that they could have hunted, that they could have survived until… He laughs humorlessly and brittley. _Until what Bilbo you fool? This isn't Fell Winter, some malfunction in the Dome that can be fixed and life can go on. This isn't something that Gandalf can just swoop in and make right. How fauntish are you to believe that praying to the Green Lady that Gandalf will show up and save you __**again **__would work?_ he berates himself.

"We're not going to make it are we Uncle Bilbo?"

Bilbo jumps, turning around to stare at little Lotho. Lotho who has his fathers dark eyes, dark eyes that are large and innocent yet at the same time so old because of the things his father did. Bilbo tries to smile encouragingly at his cousin, tries to make it seem better than it is.

"Don't worry lad everything will be alright. _We_ will be alright."

Lotho doesn't look like he agrees but he nods his head anyways before giving Bilbo a hug. The fifteen year old tween mumbles something under his breath that he doesn't catch and with one last squeeze lets go of Bilbo to run off. Bilbo watches him for a moment, hand closing the pantry door and feeling so tired. He needs to find the other adults, talk to them about their options… maybe they can cut down their meal numbers again. If the rest of Middle Earth can survive on three meals a day then so can they, right?

It's been ten days since the sun went out. Ten days of weak sunlight; how the other races survived on that light he doesn't know, hardly in change in the muggy weather and only an occasional sound from the rabid creatures outside their door. Maybe they could risk sending a few outside to hunt, to scavenge the gardens, see if there are any other survivors and see if the lack of constant noise means that the bad Hobbits are dead, starved much like they will be if he can't think of _something_.

He finds Hamfast at Saradoc's side. It's been over a month since Saradoc broke his leg, since they lost Paladin and Hamfast has been doing his best to make sure the break heals right. Both males look up when Bilbo enters Saradoc's room. His stomach sinks as he takes in the looks in their eyes; he's the oldest of them by a couple of months and they look up to him, trust him and he wishes they didn't. He isn't made out for this. Look what he has done, he's trapped them in a place he thought would be safe. Taking a deep breath he slowly explains their dire situation, cautious of young ears that are always about.

"I know I'll need to stay behind if we do this," he says waving at his leg "So take Belia and Esa with you and Hamfast? That way you have three fighters and a Took."

Hamfast shakes his head.

"No offense to you sister-in-law but she's a shite fighter and has no bedside manners."

Saradoc chuckles, Eglantine is most definitely a shite fighter, sure she married a Took but she was born a Banks and they are better suited for verbal spats than physical ones. That helped her a lot when Paladin became Thain, she glared down Hobbits who were wasting her husbands time and when that didn't work she ripped them a new one, politely of course.

"Ah but Bell will be with her and she can do the healing," Saradoc says with a shrug. Hamfast raises an eyebrow before playfully saying:

"Should I be concerned that you're trying to oust me while keeping my wife all to yourself?"

Saradoc splutters, his face turning a lovely shade of red as he tries to defend himself. Bilbo and Hamfast laugh leaning on each other, Bilbo feeling glad that even in their situation there still can be laughter. Esmeralda pokes her head into the room, concern for her husband on her face that melts to amusement.

"They're not killing my brother-in-law are they?" Eglantine calls out playfully.

"They better not be, they promised I could be part of that fun!" adds Lobelia and the group of males roll their eyes at her morbid humor.

"No we are not killing him! Why don't you guys join us?"

Once the females come in Bilbo explains things once more, the joy on the women's faces draining away to be replaced with grim expressions.

"At least one fighter will need to stay with Saddie and the kids," Lobelia says softly. Out of all of them only the oldest three, Bilbo, Lobelia and Hamfast, have any big fighting experience. As it was the older faunts job to defend the younger faunts from any wolves that got passed the adults.

"I'm willing to stay here," Hamfast says. He's a healer and a fighter, if he stays more can leave and they'll cover more ground and watch each others backs.

"I'll stay too. I'm not much of a fighter," Eglantine whispers her eyes filled with warring emotions. Lobelia's face says she won't stay behind, that she will follow them after they leave if they try to make her. Esmeralda looks at Eglantine, what her sister-in-law said is true, everyone knows that, but she would be an extra set of hands and eyes.

"Come on Eg a little fresh air might be good for, get your mind off of things," Esmeralda says leaning into Eglantine. A month is a short time to grieve the loss of a loved one, and Mandos knows they all have lost a loved one but Eg… Eg hasn't seemed to have grieved at all. Most of the adults waited until the faunts were asleep to break down, sometimes curling up together to tell stories of those lost. Eglantine never joined in, she stays with the children, hardly ever letting them out of her sight. Hell even Lobelia who only lost Otho, a Hobbit that none of the adults can truthfully say they will miss, grieved at night when she thought no one would hear. Eglantine bites her lip.

"Are you sure it's wise to leave just one person here with the kids?"

"There are traps outside of Bag End Eggie, we know they work cause they've caught a few of the boogers. Plus it's Hammie that we're leaving. They'll be fine."

The red haired Hobbit worries her lip a bit more before nodding her head.

"Alright but I want someone holding Pippin, he's hit that stage all Took's go through where he sneaks off.." _Like in the clearing where we lost Paladin._

Saradoc grimaces hearing the unheard part of her statement and the memories it brings up.

"I'll hold the tyke if it will make you feel better."

The fauntlings watch with curious eyes as the adults seem to jump into action. They're arming themselves like they did when first coming to Bag End! Merry and Pippin, the trouble making dou are swept into Saradoc's arms early. Esmeralda kisses her husband gently, ignoring the gagging sounds coming from both the faunts and Lobelia, her hands are petting his hair. He smiles at her, rubbing his nose on hers.

"Come back safe and sound."

"I'll try love. Don't pester Hammie too much while we're gone."

"I'll try."

Bell and Hamfast stand together, foreheads touching as they talk to each other in Hobbitish, mainly promises to be safe as they can be. Bilbo stomps down the jealous twinge that always surfaces when he sees couples together and one of the two widows smile in remembrance though there is pain in her eyes.

It's not long after the group leaves that there is a loud banging on the door.


	7. History May Be Repeating But Not If I Ha

**An: I absolutely love my beta she is the sweetest person ever! And deals with my crap**

Once upon a time the Laboratory that Thranduil calls home was known by the name Greenwood. But as time went by and the experiments that Thranduil allowed and sponsored grew the people began to call it Mirkwood. Those who have fled from the virus, hoping that the sterile halls will offer protection call it that as well. The woods that surround the grand laboratory spans far and wide, and they have a magic (though the scientist hate to admit that it exists outside of Wizards) and makes the Zombies agitated; they hardly ever come in. And above the lab is a grand city, one that Thranduil's father once ruled, that he now rules along with the lab. Long are are the lives of Elves if they are not snuffed out by outside forces and long are their memories.

Thranduil remembers the great lab Gondolin, the golden lab of the Elves that specialized in biological advancement like cloning and gene splicing. They created many things, and were highly praised. Until they tried to play Valar by going one step further and created something new. It made people wary of labs like Thranduil's, labs that weren't peaceful like that of Rivendell and Lothlorien. And now due to the interference of a Wizard, his lab will always be remember in the same light as Gondolin. No, to the minds of the survivors they will be worse because with Gondolin you saw what was killing you before it ended your life and was easily contained.

"Thranduil?"

The gruff question knocks the blond Elf from his dark thoughts. Mentally Thranduil shakes himself and looks down at the Man who spoke. Bard of Laketown; the uneasy, curt, unsure and reluctant leader of the small town. One of the few Men that Thranduil doesn't ignore because of their ignorance.

"Bard."

Bard is a puzzle to Thranduil, one that he wants to solve.

"We have all the known infected quarantined, a curfew is in effect and the hospitals are separating anyone who comes in with a bite or fever. I… We thank you and yours for all the support you have given us," the Man speaks with the confidence of a new father, sure yet nervous all at the same time. Thranduil inclines his head, eyebrow raised. Surely Bard did not come all this way, leaving his three children behind, just to say thank you when a video call would have sufficed. Bard shuffles, as if he is having an internal battle.

"Why? Why are you helping us now? Not that we, that I, aren't grateful but you've never cared about what happened to us before."

The Elven scientist eyes the Man and sees the Man's ancestor in his stance. So naive yet worldly that it almost made his heart ache.

"What do you know of the Elven Lab Gondolin?"

"Only that they studied biology and genetics and that something happened that caused it to burn down."

"They created creatures that supposedly walked Middle Earth once. Dragons. And were not able to control them."

A small look of understanding lights the man's face.

"It was destroyed by what it made and the Dragons plagued Middle Earth until the races united together and put a stop to them."

"So you're helping us so that we can help you in the long run."

"More or less."

Thranduil feels a sense of accomplishment when he sees Bard's eye twitch. The Man had an excellent poker face, even if he had horrid bodily ticks that gave him away and Thranduil delighted in making him reveal something through his face. Plus Bard was an excellent way to relieve the stress Elrond and the blasted Brown Wizard caused, the Brown Wizard who was still living in his home!

"How goes the search for the cure?"

"It goes," Thranduil says with a wave of his hand. Healing and cures have never interested him, he can make some of course, has to be able to with the things he and his scientists create but they bore him. Elrond on the other hand loves them, can make them better, quicker and more efficiently; there is a reason that he runs a medical lab. The brunet Elf wants to come to his Lab to help find a cure, and Thranduil does not want that at all. Thankfully the Rangers and Dwarves advised against that.

"Were all the Dragons destroyed?"

Once again the Man breaks Thranduil from his thoughts.

"Yes, of course they were. Now how about a drink before you leave?"

With their long memories Elves do not like any more reminders of failings then there has to be. So the Dragons that didn't make a target of themselves by attacking towns were hunted down and killed. There is no way that one survived… And yet as he thinks this Thranduil feels a small shiver go down his spine. He had thought that once before and had been wrong.


End file.
